


A Glooming Peace

by Thebeastisyou



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebeastisyou/pseuds/Thebeastisyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine swap stories about their mothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glooming Peace

“Alright, that’s the popcorn with,” Kurt removes his hand where it covers an assortment of bowls and swipes it under the tray, “Four different toppings to choose from. Butter, salt, caramel and, the fan favorite, dark chocolate,”

Blaine applauds politely and grabs a few napkins while Kurt sets his tray down on the bed between them.

“Such an elaborate preparation is appropriate for pageant moms and their doll-children, right?” Blaine asks, dipping his popcorn in the caramel.

“Elaborate? Please, you should have seen the living room when I had my first sleepover with the girls. I’m still washing those dishes,” He picks up the remote and sets up the DVR for their marathon, it had been a long week and being able to lose himself with Blaine in a world more chaotic that theirs, it would be pure bliss. When he’s ready, he looks over to Blaine, leaning back against his headboard and staring at the same piece of popcorn, caramel almost dripping onto his cardigan.

“Blaine?” He doesn’t startle, just blinks and turns to look at Kurt.

“Hmm?” His eyes are far away, and Kurt’s getting nervous. He wishes he’d turned the damn show on without looking over. But that’s selfish and Blaine’s upset, so he sets the remote down and turns over to lay on his side so he can see Blaine better.

“Something on your mind?”

“No, I was just thinking about my mom,” Kurt could make a joke about thinking about moms while they’re in bed, while they’re having a stay-at-home-date. It’s still possible for him to steer this conversation away and start their show. But Blaine has talked about Mrs. Anderson before, about her now, so vibrant and helpful. And he’d mentioned hints of her when he was younger, only snatches of thoughts before he changed the subject. And it’s not about him any more, or trying to escape, so he says, “Yeah?” And he waits.

“I was just thinking about popcorn, and how we never had it in the house,” He’s still staring at the popcorn, caramel now melting and sticky on his fingers.

“Okay,”

“I mean, we used to have family movie nights every Saturday. Everyone would get together in the living room, I used to sit on Cooper’s lap, and we would, well. It was really nice, all of us together like that,”

“Sounds nice,”

“Well sometimes. I mean we couldn’t agree most of the time, and Cooper would want to go out with friends, or he’d complain about which couch he’d have to sit on. It wasn’t perfect, but sometimes it could be really nice, to be close,” He paused and finally ate the popcorn, using a napkin to clean off the caramel. He folded it when he was done and placed it on the tray and Kurt can’t help a rush of affection for the confusing boy who sits beside him.

“But I guess it was just too much of a hassle after a while. Getting us all together, picking a movie without fighting, making the snacks, it just stopped after a while, and the popcorn went with it. There was a good ten years I went without popcorn other than when I went to the movie theatre,” He looks down at Kurt’s still face. “That’s what I was thinking about,”

Kurt doesn’t move, just stares at him, so Blaine scoots forward and lays the rest of the way down, head on Kurt’s pillow and turned just so he can still see his face.

“It was the flowers for me,” Kurt says, looking Blaine right in the eye, still on his side. “My mom used to pick flowers, or buy them, she’d do that every single week. A lot of the time they were just dandelions, queen anne’s lace, you know, just pretty looking weeds, but I was too little to know the difference. Sometimes though, if she was in the right mood, she would order the most beautiful bouquets, huge and extravagant, really gorgeous, I was so sad when the week was over and they disappeared,”

Kurt’s not looking at him anymore, he’s turned toward the ceiling and his eyes are closed, like he can still see the bursts of color that brightened his childhood.

“Anyway, once everything sort of fell apart, the flowers stopped too. The last bouquet she bought, she let it rot in its vase. I can still remember the algae growing on the glass and how the stems felt when I tried to take them out, all rotten and black. And after that I just, I couldn’t stand having flowers in the house anymore, it terrified me. That I would let them die like she had. That it would mean something if I did. She stole flowers from me,”

“What about, when I get you flowers? Should I not do that anymore?”

Kurt looks over to see the concern in Blaine’s eyes, that he’s crossed a line he didn’t know existed. “When you get me flowers I press them right away, I don’t let them rot, I preserve them instead. So no, you had better never stop giving me flowers,”

They smile and it’s calm for a while. They listen to a neighbor snow blowing their drive and the wind rushing against the house.

“Did you have the silence?” Blaine asks and Kurt closes his eyes again, runs the quilt between his fingers.

“Oh yeah. I think that was the worst part. The days that went on forever, and every noise made me feel like, like I was intruding, stumbling into something I couldn’t understand,”

“When it first started I tried to make as much noise as possible,” Kurt scoffs at him softly. “I would, God, I would save up money so I could buy a bunch of copies of her favorite CD, this Johnny Cash album, I went to the same store for them every time, the cashier must have thought I was nuts. But so, I had every CD player in the house, from computers to discmen, and I scattered them around to as many rooms as I could, and I tried to get them to play her favorite song at the same time. I just imagined this wall of joy, of something she loved filling that void,” Blaine’s completely still and staring at a cobweb drifting off Kurt’s fan.

“I could never get them all going at the same time though. And having to listen to me running around the house while the song played at so many different times, it probably just made things worse,” Kurt turns his head and studies Blaine’s cheek, the way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Or maybe that was one way you could reach her, imperfect sound and mountains of effort.

“It didn’t change anything though,”

“No,”

They’re both staring at the ceiling now, and Blaine’s afraid of the expression he might find if he turns.

“I still,” he starts soft and slow, “I still get angry at her for taking so much,” Blaine swallows. “I know she didn’t mean it, and I know she didn’t want to, sometimes. But I get mad that she didn’t get help sooner, and that she gave up so many times, that she threw her pills away, how she couldn’t see they were working when it was so obvious,” Kurt listens to his voice crack. He doesn’t move closer, doesn’t try to comfort, he thinks if he had to touch and hold or be held right now he might shatter, and maybe Blaine feels the same. So he just lies still and waits until he’s ready to continue.

“Some days I see her laughing with her friends or cooking dinner with my dad, and I get so, so jealous. That she was fine with Cooper, and she’s fine again now, but when I needed her, when it was just me, she wasn’t there. And I, that I couldn’t keep her happy,” Blaine’s breath is hitching, the way he sounds when he’s got tears in his eyes. Numb, Kurt doesn’t know what to say. Feels almost guilty for wanting to continue his own stories now that Blaine has shared. He should have some commentary, some insight. But all that’s coming to mind are his experiences, so they’re what he uses.

“I feel guilty too. I used to go to her grave, a few months after, and try to feel sad, but I was just empty. Even when she was home, and she barely left, she wasn’t really there. The house felt more empty with her in it then after she was gone, because there were constant reminders. The lunches she was too tired to make me, the bruises she forgot I had,” Blaine’s quiet now, listening. “And for a while I really hated myself for not being sad all the time. I hated that I forgot. I hated that dad seemed more upset than I was. He fell apart, but I was just glad to have someone else in the house. He cried and screamed and stomped around, it’s like he was filling those spaces she haunted for so long. And sometimes I, sometimes I was grateful she was gone,” Kurt’s voice is steady, though his eyes sting. He’s been down these trains of thoughts too many times for it to affect him now. The neighbor with the snow blower must have finished, it’s quiet out the window. They lie there, listening to Carole downstairs, banging around, apparently trying to rearrange the living room for all the noise she’s making.

“Kurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,”

“You too,”

“No problem,”

Blaine rolls over to see Kurt looking at him, ghost of a smile on his face. “Did we ruin the atmosphere for the toddlers?”

“Of course not,”

They lie together for the next few hours, eating slowly through their tray of popcorn. The first couple episodes are shaky, but they start laughing and joking more as the night goes on. They don’t forget, they can’t, but holding hands as the lights flash from the screen, it’s enough for now.


End file.
